It happened in Seville
by Poppelchen
Summary: Miguel & Tulio and their drunk first time. Probably. [Originally this was part of the "That Trail we fuck on" collection but I kept feeling it didn't fit in with the rest at all so I've decided to remove it and now it's a random stand alone because I can't bring myself to delete it.]


SEVILLE, 1511

The wine always flowed like water after a successful con and this time was no different except that it had been a _very successful_ con and therefore rather a lot of wine.

Seville had plenty of wine. In fact, Seville had plenty of _everything_. Not only was it the largest city in Spain, it's Puerto de Indias was also by royal decree the exclusive point of entry and exit for all trades with the New World which meant the place was was a vibrant, bustling melting pot packed to the brim with sailors and rich merchants from all over Europe. All Miguel & Tulio had to do was pick that seemingly never-ending supply of pockets and live like kings.

That was the plan anyway and up to now things had indeed been going swell and they kept congratulating each other on their decision to come here with every goblet of expensive _vino tinto_ they downed.

At some point someone handed Miguel a lute and he started playing for Tulio and the beautiful young woman he was dancing with or at least drunkenly trying to dance with while Miguel was laughing his equally drunken ass off at the sight. When Tulio tried to pick a fight about this she shot Miguel a dirty look from under her silky brown curls. How dare he interfere with her attempts to squeeze every last _Maravedi_ out of his susceptible friend? However, Tulio was placated quickly – by strategic flattery and hands in the right spots – and Miguel's attention was soon captured by the fresh mug of wine the bartender put into his hands.

Their earnings dwindled as rapidly as the night went on, seemingly vanishing into thin air though in reality into the rounds Miguel kept buying for everyone, the fiery flamenco girl Tulio was enamoured with and the musicians who appeared to be multiplying by the minute although that might have been the wine.

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The first few rays of light of the upcoming dawn were already hesitantly seeping into the streets of Seville when Miguel and Tulio finally decided to call it a night and stagger into the small room upstairs that they shared. To Tulio's great disappointment the flamenco girl was nowhere to be seen and he had the distinct feeling she wasn't going to be back at a later time either.

„Shhhee...ply..played me, din'tsheMiguel?", he slurred as they made their way up the stairs, arms around each other's shoulders for an illusion of stability.

„Uh-huh", his friend replied without really listening because he was too focused on not bumping his head into the wall and swaying vaguely in the right direction. Luckily, they didn't have to go far. Their bedroom was the first one after the stairs and they even managed to open the door on the forth try.

It was just big enough for a bed on either side, a narrow closet, a small table with a wash basin on it and two chairs. Nothing fancy. They staggered through the room, silently arguing about the correct direction in terms of leaning this way or that and ultimately stumbled onto the right side bed, landing in a heap of tangled limbs.

Miguel groaned as the world did a double flip and grabbed onto Tulio to hold himself steady, keeping the other man from falling off the bed by sheer accident and instead pulling Tulio on top of him.

„Tulio...what're you doin' inmbed?", he mumbled.

Tulio squinted at his companion in drunken confusion.

„'S my bed.", he said indignantly and half-heartedly tried to shove Miguel out of said bed but seeing as he was currently lying on top of the other man his endeavours were fruitless.

„No 's not.", protested Miguel.

„Is too", muttered Tulio and managed to half-lift himself up so he now straddled Miguel. Using one hand to steady himself against the wall he leaned over his friend until their faces were only centimeters from each other and poked him in the chest with an index finger. „You. _My_ bed."

It sounded way more like a command than he had planned.

Their eyes locked.

Miguel was suddenly acutely aware of how close his friend's face was to his. How even under all the wine he could still smell _Tulio._ How Tulio was sitting on his lap. Tulio's fingertips on his chest, the fingertips he hadn't taken away yet. They burned on his skin like wildfire. Only now did he register that his own hands rested lightly on the other man's thighs. He could feel Tulio's body heat through the fabric. It was not too late to push him off yet but he didn't want to and judging from the way his friend looked at him he wasn't even sure if _Tulio_ wanted to bepushed off. Miguel swallowed and felt the blood rush into his groin.

Tulio drew a sharp breath when he noticed the sudden surge of heat spreading out under him. Felt Miguel's cock harden and press against him and the excited twitch of his own when the comprehension of this fact set in. Tulio was paralyzed. Couldn't move. He felt the rough wood under his right hand and Miguel's hot, soft skin under his left, his partners' chest heaving with every shaky breath. Always wearing those shirts with the deep neck lines. The room appeared to have shrunk down to just this bed. All he could see were Miguel's slightly parted lips so close, _so_ close to Tulio's and all he could feel was Miguel panting under him.

Seconds which felt like hours ticked by as the two men stared at each other. The room was spinning, the tension between them building itself up into a tangible, tingling, terrifying mess with only one way to resolve it.

Miguel closed the gap.

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It wasn't until late into the afternoon that Miguel woke with what he was convinced was the worst hangover of his entire life. Apart from the headache, the nausea and the excruciating thirst he also had his face full of black hair that was smelling strongly of cigar smoke and his arms wrapped around a warm, naked and decidedly _male_ body. Huh. Funny. He couldn't remember having company when he had gone to bed, especially not _that_ kind. The last thing he recalled was staggering up the stairs with Tuli-oh no. Miguel's eyes went wide.

He hardly dared looking but it didn't exactly take close inspection to recognize his best friend. Miguel desperately tried to think and keep his breathing level at the same time. Should he try to extract himself without waking Tulio? Get dressed, climb into the other bed and pretend nothing had ever happened? He had wanted this for so long that even now, worried what the other man would say when he woke up, he just felt ridiculously happy.

Tulio had known forever that Miguel swung that way, all the ways in fact, and had never been weird about it but Miguel wasn't sure if 'not weird about it' included being involved himself. To his knowledge Tulio liked women – what if he was so disgusted and embarrassed by the whole thing that he did not want to be in Miguel's company anymore? The thought of denying everything was painful to say the least, the thought of potentially losing Tulio as a friend was unbearable.

However, squashed between the taller man and the wall as he was there was simply no way he could get out of the tiny bed silently enough to not wake him. Miguel sighed internally when he realized this and drew Tulio closer to his chest. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

The body in his arms shifted. Miguel's heart skipped a beat.

„Miguel? Are you...are you awake?"

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Tulio didn't know for how long he'd been awake, merely lying there as curled up as the narrow bed would permit and reveling in Miguel's warm embrace. He had what was probably his worst ever hangover, yet at the same time he had never felt so good before. Tulio wanted this moment to never ever stop. Except maybe to get some water into him and food and to take a piss and overall nurse his hangover. But after that, never.

He felt Miguel stir behind him in but kept his eyes scrunched up regardless and tried to breathe evenly, careful to not let on that he was already awake. He didn't want this to end yet, didn't want to face the possibility that it didn't mean anything to Miguel, that he had just wanted a warm body for the night. And that wasn't even getting to the part where they could go to jail or even be executed if someone found them in bed like this.

Tulio heard his partner draw a sharp breath and felt the arms around his body tense up slightly though they stayed in their place. An indefinite amount of time passed, then the shorter man snuggled closer. Tulio let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. No use in delaying the inevitable. He braced himself, licked his dry lips and asked in a raspy voice: „Miguel? Are you...are you awake?"

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„Yes."

He did not miss the slight quiver in Miguel's answer. They remained silent until Tulio plucked up the courage to speak again, slightly heartened by the fact that Miguel was still holding him and had not kicked him out of the bed yet.

„So..." He looked down at the hands on his chest. Beautiful, beautiful hands. What the hell was he supposed to say now? Did you like it? Do you want to do it again when we're sober? I liked it? I want to stay here in your arms and never ever leave? Do you want to talk about it? Do you...

He took a deep breath and tried to relax enough to actually get a a few words out, any words but then Miguel – who could never be silent for long – spoke first after all.

„Tulio, I know this is awkward", he started quietly and without the usual upbeat excitement in his voice. Tulio swallowed and didn't say anything and tried not to panic.

„I don't know about you, but I enjoyed this.", Miguel continued. „I mean I...I don't actually _remember_ a lot of it but..." He paused for a moment. „...I've kinda wanted this for a really long time, you know? And...and I'm hoping you wanted it too and we can do it again without alcohol?", he finished tentatively.

„What?!" Tulio blinked at the wall in complete and utter shock. Miguel...wanted to be with him? Like this? For real? „Whoa, whoa, whoa wait a minute!", he said incredulously and spun around to look into his friend's worried face. „You mean we could have done this sooner? And sober?!", he blurted out and grabbed Miguel by the shoulders.

Miguel first stared wide-eyed at Tulio, then lifted an eyebrow and flashed the wicked grin Tulio loved so much.

„Are you trying to tell me that you fancy me too?"

Tulio felt his ears and face grow hot as he blushed the deepest shade of red.

„Kinda.", he mumbled, massaging his neck and avoiding Miguel's eyes in embarrassment. „I mean it's not exactly something you'd, uh, bring up to your best friend, is it? It didn't occur to me that you could, um, actually be interested."

„Tulio, you've known that I like men for _years."_ , said Miguel. "Something I didn't know about you, by the way", he added slightly miffed and raised his eyebrows.

„Well I didn't know you liked _me_!", Tulio shot back, throwing his hands up.

Miguel laughed at this.

„True." He propped his head up in his right hand. „Good thing we have wine, then.", he exclaimed cheerily and beamed at Tulio who paled and had to press his hand against his mouth to fight down the urge to vomit all over Miguel.

„Oh God please never mention this vile drink ever again. Or at least for the next few months.", was all he managed to get out before he had to retch again.

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When they reminisced of this in later years they always regarded it as simultaneously the best and the worst sex either of them had ever had. The best because it was with each other and both of them had been fantasizing about this moment for a good long while at the time. The worst because sozzled reality never quite lived up to fantasy. Apart from falling out of the bed a lot, they didn't remember much of it and were almost certain that at least one of them had actually thrown up at some point. In fact, they weren't entirely sure whether much sex had even happened at all as both were a bit fuzzy on the details but things had been rather sticky in the morning so they figured it counted.

Really, they were only two things they ever agreed on. One; that as soon as they had started kissing ('Passionately!', it was called by Miguel. 'Drunkenly.', said Tulio.) they had literally been ripping each other's clothes off or at least Tulio had torn Miguel's one good shirt right through the middle, a fact that Miguel wouldn't let go for weeks. Two; that they had somehow managed to blow through 498 of their newly-earned 500 maravedis in a single night, though who had been at fault for this was an issue as hotly debated as whose bed it had been.


End file.
